Almost Tony
by YourGuardianAngel08
Summary: SPOILERS for FFH! Tony left Peter the Stark glasses and the power that went with them but Peter being Peter wasn't sure if he was ready for it. Fatefully, he asked Beck to put them on and as soon as he saw him, Peter couldn't avoid the plan that formed. And the painful memories it dredged up. This is a collection of one-shots of what (mostly Peter) is thinking in scenes from FFH.
1. Almost Tony

**Hey everyone!**

**This is your warning for this fanfic - FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS!**

**Again this is your warning, if you haven't seen the movie, and don't want something spoiled, please don't read this!**

**Okay that was your warning, now onto the author's note...**

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**This is just a little bit of drabble that I thought about when I was watching Far From Home again. During the scene in the bar, I was just blown away by Tom Holland's acting and the timing of everything and I couldn't help but catch the look he gave to Beck when he put on the glasses for the first time. There was a sadness there that really hit me and so I needed to write it down. **

**If you don't agree with this characterization, that's totally fine but please don't flame me for it! Just don't read!**

**Also two quick side notes, (1) For any of you reading "Bastion in the Storm", I'm still working on it but this kept bugging me and (2) For anyone who's read the other stories in my loose AU universe, this does not fall into that. I'm trying to make this more canon compliant.**

**I think that's all I have for now so...**

**Enjoy!**

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"Oh my god, thank you so much." Peter pulled the glasses into his chest almost reverently as he looked down at them, clutching them tightly like the last tie to his late mentor they were.

Quentin leaned forward and tentatively pointed at the glasses before he asked with increasingly clarity, "What are those? Are those the…"

Peter held up the glasses, explaining, "EDITH glasses, yah…"

Quentin scrunched his face up a bit and asked with incredulity, "They were were just on the floor?" His eyebrows raised just a bit, exaggerating his question.

Peter looked down at the glasses still clutched in his hands, ashamed of apparently almost losing the only thing Tony had left him.

But Quentin saw the shame and let his guilt at highlighting it show on his face before he tried to redirect Peter's embarrassment, ordering, "Try them on. Let's see how they look on you."

"Yah?" Peter responded hopefully.

"Yah." Quentin responded encouragingly, automatically.

As soon as he got the confirmation, Peter shyly slipped them on and once they were in place, he turned toward Quentin. And for the first time since he had met him, Peter felt incredibly self-conscious because this was Peter opening himself up, it wasn't Spider-Man talking to Mysterio it was Peter talking to Quentin. He tried to display an air of confidence but almost grimaced when he heard the doubt in his voice as he explained, "I actually really like 'em."

Quentin winced slightly before he asked, "Can I be completely honest with you?"

"Please." Peter offered expectantly, hoping to get some confirmation that the glasses and the riddle he had gotten were not some kind of mistake. He caught himself hoping that he would be able to live up to the last gift Tony had left him.

But Beck's strange look deepened before he almost apologetically said, "They look really stupid on you."

Peter's enthusiasm immediately disappeared as he dejectedly responded, "Oh…" He couldn't help but feel let down. He knew he wasn't Tony Stark but he was hoping that he could at least carry on his legacy.

Quentin took a swig of his beer as he fully read Peter's reaction and, concerned by the response, Quentin hurried to correct himself and offered, "But maybe they have a contact lens version of them." He gave a small half shrug as he tried to make the teenager feel a bit better.

But Peter whipped them off as quick as he could, unable to take the rejection. Then he pushed the glasses toward Quentin and ordered, "You try 'em on."

"No, come on." Quentin laughed off the request.

But Peter was instant. He tried again to hand them over and repeated, "Try 'em on."

"No I don't wanna…I don't wanna try 'em on." Quentin insisted, throwing up his hand and brushing off the request with a little more force.

"Just put 'em on…" Peter almost whined. He was still trying to hold on to the good-natured conversation they had been having when Quentin sighed and took the glasses. Peter unconsciously leaned forward in anticipation.

Quentin hesitantly took them but easily slipped them into place before shooting Peter a grin.

The motion was so familiar that Peter couldn't help but flash back to one of the first times he had seen Tony put the glasses on. They had been just a prototype then but the confidence was so immediately recognizable that Peter couldn't stop from seeing that memory. As soon as the image of Tony putting on those glasses flashed through his mind, Peter felt the last threads of conversational humor evaporate as he realized that Beck almost looked like him.

Not in the same way the posters and the pictures and the graffiti and the world kept continually, painfully reminding Peter what Tony Stark looked like. But in the way Peter had always seen Tony.

Quentin almost looked like Tony.

Almost.

He had a full beard and longer hair but he was smirking mischievously, confidence shining through, and Peter was still raw enough that those obvious similarities were close enough to hurt.

But oblivious to Peter's current torment, Beck maintained his grin before roguishly asking, "What do you think, kid?"

That question did it. That was what Tony always called him and for as common as that term was, for a heart-breaking split second, Peter was looking at Tony again.

Because Beck didn't just almost look like him, Beck almost acted like Tony.

It wasn't exactly right and Peter wasn't deluded enough to think that Quentin could be Tony. No one could fill that void, especially for Peter. But Quentin joked and he quipped. He worried and he felt guilty and he tried to help whenever he could, just like Tony had. Because for all his flaws, Tony had been a good man, someone Peter had admired. A respect that deepened even after Tony had taken him under his wing. Even after Tony had let Peter passed his considerable guard and allowed Peter to see the man under the armor. And once Peter met that man, he loved him even more. And never once, even if they fought or argued, had Peter questioned Tony's heart. And now Peter was looking at someone who wanted nothing more than to protect him and protect his world. But maybe even more importantly, was interested in who Peter was under his mask.

Just like Tony had been.

Beck had the same conviction, the same drive, and the same compassion Tony had shown Peter. Beck believed in the same things Tony did. And then the thought struck Peter that if Tony had still been alive, he probably would have liked Quentin Beck.

That thought cut deeper, opening a wound that the world refused to let heal. And there, in the middle of that bar sitting across from a man he had known for three days, Peter was struck by how profoundly he missed Tony.

And if Peter couldn't have Tony back then maybe…maybe he could have someone similar. An almost Tony. Someone to talk to about superhero stuff again. Someone who understood what it meant to hurt or to hide or to need to lose yourself in something other than saving the world. Someone who would tell him to take a break or back off when it was too dangerous only for them to argue about it and then work together to solve it. Just…someone who understood him again.

And maybe this was a chance for Peter to avoid making the same mistake he had made with Tony at the end. Because something Peter had silently decided a long time ago was that if he had known that their hug on the battlefield was the last time he would have ever been able to see or talk to an unwounded Tony, he would have avoided talking about Strange and space and all the other stupid things he had said. Instead, Peter would have told Tony how happy he was to see him, explained how much he meant to him, and how thankful he was for all the care and help Tony had given him. It still ate him up that the last thing Peter said that he was sure Tony understood was a stupid comment on the hug.

As that thought flashed through his mind, Peter couldn't help but think that if he had known what it meant, he would have held on longer.

Spider-Man was stronger than Iron Man. Maybe Peter could have held Tony back just enough for someone else to save the world. Then he wouldn't be looking at an almost Tony, he would just have Tony.

But as soon as that heretical thought was given credence, Peter immediately felt bad. Even thinking that was completely selfish and wrong and Peter knew it was antithetical to everything Tony believed in. But dammit, Peter still _hurt_.

So maybe…just maybe…the universe was trying to apologize by bringing Beck across the multiverse. Maybe it was to give Peter a way to find some shred of closure for an event that he still didn't completely understand but that had left him so unbelievably scarred.

Peter had to look away at that point. He couldn't look at Quentin in Tony's glasses anymore. It hurt and he needed just a second. But even as he tried to deal with that, he was reminded of the last thing message Tony had left him. He couldn't help but murmur to himself, "…for the next Tony Stark, I trust you." As his conviction deepened in the shell of a plan forming in his mind, he repeated with a little more volume, "For the next Tony Stark, I trust you."

Quentin looked at him confused, the glasses still in place as he asked for clarification, "What?'

Peter leaned forward and explained, "Mr. Stark left me a message with those glasses. For the next Tony Stark I trust you."

But Quentin quipped in response, "I'm still not following. How many lemonades have you had?"

But as he talked, Peter's plan solidified and he found himself rationalizing the reason why Tony left behind something so powerful for him. Peter continued, justifying his unconscious decision to himself even as he explained it to Beck, "He knew every mistake I ever made, okay? So he must have known that I was not ready for something like this."

Quentin pulled back in puzzlement and asked, "Then why would he give them to you?"

Peter continued, increasingly sure of his decision, "Because maybe he didn't trust me to have EDITH, he just trusted me to pick who should. It makes so much more sense, he always knew I would do what's right and he's not going to give them to Fury because Fury would just give himself EDITH."

"You're probably right about that…" Quentin threw in, reinforcing what Peter was saying.

Peter took that as confirmation and he continued, "Right. The world needs the next Iron Man. And it's not gonna be me, I mean, I'm a sixteen year old kid from Queens. It needs to be an adult with some experience and...that's good like Tony Stark. Like you."

"No, Peter come on…no." Quentin continued, trying to get Peter to stop what he was apparently trying to do. He snapped the glasses closed and handed them over, trying to get Peter to rethink his obvious train of thought.

But Peter was set on his decision and he slipped the glasses on with significantly less confidence than he had seen Tony and Quentin use because he now knew how stupid they actually looked on him. He kept his face toward the counter and hesitantly asked, "EDITH?"

"Hello Peter."

Peter couldn't look over at Quentin, afraid to break the illusion of Tony or of seeing something that stopped him from making his decision. He had committed to this, he needed to make this happen. Once EDITH acknowledged him, he continued, "Hi…yah…umm…I'd like to transfer your control over to Quentin Beck."

"Peter, what are you doing?" Quentin asked as he leaned forward in his chair, suspicion and disbelief clear in his voice.

Peter glanced up then and justified his decision, snapping, "Doing the right thing."

"Any transfer will require confirmation."

Quentin continued to try to change Peter's mind, arguing with increasing certainty, "Stark gave you the glasses…"

But Peter looked up at him again and shot back with more conviction than he had felt since this whole conversation started, "Stark gave me a choice, it's my choice to make, okay, and I'm gonna make it. Look you're a soldier, a leader. You stopped the elementals, you saved my life, you saved the world. Okay? He'd want you to have them."

"Waiting for confirmation." EDITH's voice reminded.

"Confirmed." Peter said simply, completing the process. Then he looked up at Beck and handed over the glasses, the last thing Tony had left for him. He forced himself to congratulate Quentin, even as a slight sadness cut through his voice, "Welcome to the Avengers." He watched Quentin put the glasses back on with a little less confidence and the thought flashed through Peter's mind that Tony hadn't actually left him anything other than a choice. That realization cut him just a little bit more. Still, Peter replied, almost sheepishly, "They look good on you."

Then Quentin held out his hand and Peter took it. The handshake served as a promise, a transfer of responsibility and Quentin sat up a little straighter before he solemnly said, "Thank you. It's an honor."

"Yah." Peter said sadly before he stood up off his chair, throwing his backpack over his shoulder, and stopping to face Quentin, offering, "Mr. Stark would have really liked you."

The man who looked almost like Tony Stark in Tony's glasses raised his eyebrows at Peter's comment but didn't respond, instead averting that conversation and instead asking, "Where are you headed?'

"I'm gonna go find MJ." Peter answered, relief at finally having made a choice clear in his tone.

"Good luck kid, I'll give about you a 50/50 chance, you're pretty awkward so…"

And just like that the humor was back. The quip made Peter feel more comfortable and he couldn't help but give a wide smile. He was awkward and calling him on it was something Tony had done. It made him feel better about the decision and he couldn't help but chuckle out, "Yah…" Then he turned his back on Quentin and headed for the door, calling, "See you later man…"

"See yah…" Quentin responded to Peter's back.

With his hand on the open door, Peter turned and glanced at Quentin, thankful that he had made the decision he had. Appreciating immensely the chance to have someone again. He gave Beck a small smile before he pulled the door shut, mind set on finding Michelle. It hadn't been his initial goal but now that Beck had the glasses, Peter also had a chance to get back to his trip. He suddenly felt a little lighter.

But as he walked passed the window, Peter was hit once more by how much he still missed Tony. He couldn't help but throw one more glance through the window as he slowed down for a few moments. As he did, he caught sight of the man who looked so much like his mentor sipping a beer. Beck wasn't Tony but maybe he was a chance for Peter to connect with another superhero again. Maybe it was a chance for him to find someone else who believed in him and understood everything that went along with saving the world.

Someone who liked him for him.

Plus, now he could go see Michelle.

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**So there you have it! That's my little drabble on what Peter was thinking during that scene.**

**I hope you enjoyed it and please feel free to leave a review to let me know what you thought!**

**I hope you have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	2. The Fake Funeral

**Hey everyone,**

**So I might have just gotten the blu-ray for Far From Home and this was the first time I've had a chance to watch it again. I was struck by the scene on the airplane for whatever reason so I decided to write a little drabble about it.**

**I'm attaching it to my other Far From Home story. **

**Enjoy!**

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Harrington nodded as he said with complete sincerity, "Ned, thanks for bringing this to my attention, your safety is my responsibility…and Mr. Dell's but he's..." Harrington trailed off as he glanced back at his fellow chaperone before returning his gaze to Ned and promising, "I got it for now."

Then he turned to Peter and waved him over, ordering, "Let's go Peter." He started to move back to the last few rows before he called out again, "Let's go."

Peter begrudgingly followed his teacher's instructions, throwing his bag over his shoulder and huffing as he moved to the back of the plane. He crushed himself between Harrington and the chair in front of him when the older man held out his arm as an invitation. Peter fell into the middle seat with a despairing sigh. This was not going at all like he wanted.

As Peter settled, Harrington explained, "Yah, I have a small bladder so I took the aisle." Then he dropped his head back into his headrest.

Peter was frustrated, it was ten minutes into the plan and it was already failing. It's not that he didn't like Mr. Harrington but nine hours on a flight that he was supposed to be able to use to watch movies with Michelle was not even close to the same thing. Peter sighed again and rummaged through his bag looking for something else to do. He had planned on watching movies and talking, had banked on that. And now he didn't have anything. Not even a book. Resigning himself to nine hours of watching in-flight movies by himself, Peter stared at the blank screen in front of him and couldn't help but curse his luck.

Then Harrington, in a bid to apparently start some kind of small talk, asked, "Did I tell you how my wife pretended to blip out?" The older man glanced over at Peter, looking for some kind of reaction before he just kept going.

Peter pressed his lips into a straight line and clenched his jaw slightly as he tried not to let himself think too much about the Blip. He didn't want to go back to the battle at Avenger's Headquarters. He had been so ready to avoid thinking about that. It had been funny when Michelle had said it because it had been about Flash. This was different. And for a split second, Peter couldn't help but think about what righting everything had cost.

Oblivious to his student's distress, Harrington kept going, "Turns out she ran off with a guy in her hiking group."

Peter clenched his jaw tighter as his forced apathy tipped closer to sadness. His eyes flicked down to the seat in front of him, landing on the webbed netting that held the airplane information and the sickness bag. His ability to ignore the images in his head faltered and Peter had to actively press away a few memories of the aftermath of the battle.

But Harrington didn't stop with the adultery, he added, "We had a fake funeral for her and everything."

That twisted the knife. Immediately, Peter's thoughts jumped fully to Tony. Peter clenched his teeth hard, the motion jumping across his jaw, as he felt the inescapable sadness the world just would not let him forget. He had no intention of crying, he had done enough of that but the statement hit hard. Tony's funeral hadn't been fake. It had been very, very real. And it still hurt. It still hurt that he hadn't been able to do anything to save him and that the world kept reminding Peter that Tony Stark was dead. That _his_ mentor was dead. Peter pressed his lips into a straight line as he stared straight ahead again, unable to stop the memories from flashing to Pepper and Morgan in black, surrounded by all the Avengers. He couldn't stop himself from fatalistically imagining his one nice suit, the one that only ever seemed to be worn to funerals.

This was going to be a long flight.

Still, Harrington continued to talk, "Well the funeral was real, but that's cause I thought she was really dead. But if you wanna see the video..."

Peter dropped his eyes again, trying to find something to distract him. He knew what really dead was like. He had seen it too many times to feel any real sympathy for his obviously jilted teacher. Two people he loved had died in front of him and this discussion just reinforced that unfortunate reality. And dredged up some incredibly painful images. Not for the first time, Peter wished he had been able to do more for Tony, had been able to do more than blabber they had won when it was so obvious he had lost. Wished he had done more than cry and clutch Tony's hand like it would help. Peter pulled his lips in and clenched his jaw, fighting against now very possible tears. He tried to force himself back but...

On top of all this, his flight was ruined.

There was a baby sitting near him.

Michelle was talking to Brad.

His teacher was talking about funerals.

And his plan was failing.

Then Harrington pulled him back when he saw the adapter in Peter's hand and remarked, "Oh you have a dual headphone adaptor. We can watch it together." He stuck his hand into his jacket to apparently retrieve whatever device he had taken video of a funeral on.

Peter glanced down at the offending piece of plastic and he had the sudden, almost inescapable urge to chuck the thing through the fuselage. Or maybe crush it. But both of those would have given away his secret. So instead he stared at it in sad betrayal.

His plan was falling apart.

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Not even an hour and a half into the flight, Harrington fell asleep and Peter was left to his own devices. He could see Michelle and Brad talking and laughing in front of him, their heads tipping closer as they enjoyed themselves. Peter looked over at his teacher for some shred of assistance but Harrington was asleep. In a bid to distract himself, Peter turned on his screen. Naturally, the first thing he stupidly clicked on was something about Tony. God. What was wrong with him? He read the description and then shut off the screen. Falling the few inches he could back into his seat, Peter crossed his arms with a sigh. With a force of considerable will, he pressed away everything he could and let himself dwell on one question...

How had he screwed up his plan this badly already?

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**There you go, hopefully you liked it!**

**So in fairness, I thought this scene was kinda weird the first time I saw it because really, who films a funeral? But then I watched it again and thought, well Harrington is really weird, and then watched Peter more closely. It made me really sad and it kinda stuck in my head so I figured I would write something for it.**

**I haven't quite figured out a good way to reorder this fanfic without reposting the chapters so its unfortunately a little out of order until I figure that out. I think I might just replace the chapters but I need to recopy the first chapter so I'm working that out. I just wanted to apologize if the messed up chronology annoys anyone.**

**I hope you have a wonderful day/night and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


	3. The Tulip Field

**Hey everyone,**

**I'm back with another Far From Home one-shot!**

**This one was a request from the amazing skydancer121 to look at Peter's mindset when he was trying to figure out if Happy was really Happy. After I went back and rewatched the scene quite a few times, I was able to write my take on what Peter was thinking in that scene so skydancer, this one's for you! I hope you enjoy it!**

**I also want to say thank you to lotr-avengers-ninjago-httyd15 (I'm sorry about your name but this is the only way the website won't delete it for some reason), I'm glad you liked the chapter but I'm sorry it made you sad!**

**That's all I have for right now so I hope you...**

**Enjoy!**

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Peter hurt.

Like really hurt.

He hurt worse than when Vulture had dropped a building on him.

Worse than when he had nearly been blown up by Thanos's army.

He could taste metal in the back of his throat from what was probably some kind of internal bleed. His ribs were definitely still tender and if he moved the wrong way, it kind of felt like at least a couple were still broken.

And on top of that, he was pretty sure that his leg was technically broken, or at least fractured. It was healing quickly enough that he could kind of limp by on it but it wasn't anywhere close to mended. That meant that continuing to push forward took most of his mental capacity.

He made it to the outskirts of the beautiful tulip field before his concentration was broken by the Stark Industries quinjet overhead. Peter didn't hurry his pace, couldn't hurry his pace, but suddenly he had something else to think about.

At the introduction of the jet, Mysterio's image finally crept into his head, _Anthony Edward Stark_, that's what Tony's grave had said. The name on the side of the jet echoed that name, that horrible projection. _Stark_. And for a completely irrational moment, Peter couldn't help his sudden trepidation. What if Mysterio somehow tapped that man's phone? What if he had found Peter?

Then Peter heard that haunting voice, _If you were good enough…_

That was a thought that had kept Peter awake at night off and on for the last eight months; now it was forever attached to the grave of his mentor and the horrific image of Tony's skeletal corpse in broken armor.

The full image flashed through his mind again and it nearly made him sick. Thankfully, he didn't have the will to stay upright and throw up so he kept moving forward and swallowed the bile back. Peter kept limping through neatly manicured rows but with an added hesitation that had nothing to do with his leg. He was still too beaten to deal with the possibility of Mysterio so he kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, choosing to avoid the possibility for as long as he could.

It was only when the door opened that Peter was forced to look up.

As the suited figure of his mentor's body guard appeared at the top of the stairs, Peter couldn't help it when his step faltered. And then Happy's worried voice easily carried across the silent tulip field as he moved down the steps, "Peter, are you okay?"

The voice was so familiar, so concerned but Mysterio's demeanor had been too. Peter flashed back to that projection, _Anthony Edward Stark_. What if this was Mysterio? What if this seemingly caring interaction devolved the same way his meeting with Fury had? _If you were good enough..._The irrational fear grew exponentially and Peter found himself questioning his backup. He still moved forward but he couldn't help it when a portion of his brain shifted toward defense. If this was Mysterio, Peter was going to have to fight. Again. But he hurt so badly and he was terrified of what else he would see. He wasn't sure if he could take Tony's half destroyed face telling him how badly he had failed. The fear crept into terror, which was plainly clear in his voice when he hurriedly asked, "Happy, is that you?"

Happy stepped toward the obviously injured superhero but crunched his face in disbelief as questioned the question, "Is it me?" Then in a flippant tone added, "Yah, of course it's me."

This was too close to what had happened before, too close to Happy's personality. Peter's spider-sense was going crazy even though it seemed almost as confused as him, like it was reacting to his fear instead of picking up on any actual threat. Peter couldn't handle it, he leaned farther over his injured leg, protecting his damaged side as he held his good hand out in front of him and ordered, "Stop!" He couldn't handle it if Happy got too close and he was wrong again. _If you were good enough… _Mysterio's voice echoed around his head, building to the point where he absolutely needed to know. Peter let his panic get the better of him and demanded, "Tell me something only you would know."

Happy froze and held his arms out to the side, repeating, "Only I would know." His voice rose in confidence when, after a few moments, he thought of something, "Um…Oh…remember...when we went to Germany and you pay-per-viewed a video in your room. They didn't list the titles but I could by the price it was an adult film at the front desk and you didn't know how I knew…"

Peter's eyes widened when he realized this was, in fact, Happy and his defensive posture faltered when he quickly assured, "Okay…okay…fine, it's you. It's you. Stop." Peter grunted as he pushed himself forward, trying to ignore the pain that shot through him as his foot rhythmically hit the packed earth. When he got close enough, he wrapped Happy in a hug and admitted, "It's so good to see you."

But Peter didn't get the return hug he wanted. Instead, Happy froze for a few moments before he lightly draped his arms around Peter's back and murmured, "Peter you're going to have to tell me what the hell is going on." He only shifted his hands up to hug him when Peter tightened his hold.

And just a little louder, Mysterio's voice ricocheted around Peter's head, _If you were good enough…_

It was too much of a mirror to the last time he had seen Tony. Only that time, Peter had been the one surprised. Tony had pulled him close, communicating the truth in what Strange had told them, that they had been gone for five years. In that hug, Tony had been able to let Peter know how much he had missed him. And Peter had returned the gesture in kind once he realized what was going on. It had been nice. It had been comforting to be pulled in tightly, to know how much he meant.

And Peter realized abortedly that he needed that.

He needed the reassurance that came with such a meaningful, communicative embrace. He had screwed up, he needed Tony.

But Happy was not Tony.

And a part of him, fueled by Mysterio's illusions whispered that if he had been better, he wouldn't have to wish for a hug.

And that hurt. A lot. Just a little worse than the physical pain because that hug, that embrace, that relationship was in the past. In that moment, Peter knew he needed to accept that. He had to accept Tony wasn't coming back.

He was dead.

And for whatever reason, that simple acceptance was puzzlingly difficult because he already knew that. Peter had grieved, had shared with May, Pepper, and Morgan, hell, he had been there when Tony died but a part of him had apparently never accepted it. As he stood there, in the middle of a tulip field in Broek O- Plange… something, hoping for an embrace that was never going to happen, Peter felt that soul-crushing truth.

But at the same time he felt the last thread of his guilt snap.

It was a truth that the world had been trying to teach him for the better part of eight months and he had only kind of listened. And once he did, he realized that the sadness he felt wasn't guilt, it was loss. Plain and simple.

In that moment, he finally had clarity. Peter knew he couldn't have saved Tony. He was too busy trying to fight back the larger brunt of the army, trying to keep them at bay as the others dealt with the gauntlet. He hadn't even known that Tony was in that fight. Mysterio was wrong. Tony's death had nothing to do with Peter being better. Tony has made his choice. He had been protecting his family. And Peter had been a part of that family, at least in some way.

It didn't make it easier. At all. But it fit. Tony made a selfless choice and for Peter to think that he would have been able to do anything to take it away from him was disrespectful to his memory. Mysterio was wrong because even if Peter had the combined powers of Scarlet Witch and Captain Marvel, he wouldn't have been able to stop Tony.

Peter still missed him. Missed him like crazy. But at no point in this entire epiphany could he come up with a way he could have saved him. But that led him to question the one thing he still didn't understand, what had Tony been thinking passing down the Iron Man mantle? Peter knew he couldn't be the next Iron Man, right now he couldn't even be Spider-Man.

He couldn't have saved his mentor but it was his fault that he had lost the last thing Tony had given him and the guilt returned.

That was distinctly, one hundred percent his fault. And now he would have to tell Happy exactly what he had done.

Peter felt Happy start to pull away from him and he loosened his hold. His arms still felt empty but a part of him had at least managed to flash back to the battlefield, a part of him remembered how much Tony had cared about him. He had still messed up and would need to deal with that but at least he _knew, _was able to remember, that Tony had cared. Unfortunately, the longer he stood, the more his lingering pain made itself known.

When Happy finally let go, the movement shifted Peter's shirts and for the first time he felt a roll of blood down his spine. Apparently something hadn't quite healed. Peter slumped a little and Happy reached out to catch him before helping him up the stairs. As they shuffled, Happy murmured, "Come on Peter, let's get you cleaned up."

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**I had to do it, I'm sorry!**

**A couple of notes: (1) The bit about the family thing is off of something the Russo brothers said in the director's commentary about Peter being like Tony's son, so I wanted to work that in there because he would have been one of the people Tony would have felt personally motivated to save. (2) In a bit of the same vein as the other couple of stories, the strange interaction is what I based this around. I think the thing that stuck out to me as weird in this scene was that hug because Happy was not nearly as excited to hug Peter as Peter was to hug Happy which made me think about Endgame (obviously) so my thought process revolved around why they went with such an awkward hug and this is what I came up with.**

**I hope it worked!**

**And one more note for skydancer121, I tried to work in Happy's thought but it kinda made it a little disjointed so I just stuck with what Peter was thinking about :)**

**Feel free to let me know what you thought in the reviews!**

**I hope you all have a wonderful night/day and stay creative!**

**-Lily**


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